Page 69 of Never Tear Us Apart

Chapter Sixty-Seven

‘Oh no, that won’t do at all,’ Christina says the moment she sets eyes on me. ‘Alex, that won’t do at all, will it?’

‘No, that will not do,’ Alex tells me. ‘We are all pinning our hopes on you, Maia. You can’t go to the dance looking like a charwoman. We have hopes and dreams and fantasies that we need you to live for us.’

‘A charwoman?’ I ask as Christina grabs me by the wrist and pulls me inside. ‘This dress was hard to come by!’

Christina looks me up and down. ‘What are we going to do with her?’

‘I thought this was nice,’ I say, pressing my hand against the viscose of my tea dress, trying to smooth out the creases.

‘It is nice – for a funeral or tea at a maiden aunt’s,’ Christina says, wrinkling her nose.

‘But not tonight, darling. Tonight is about glamour and romance. The gentlemen will be wearing dress uniform, and it’s our job to scrub up sufficiently well to make them forget about the war for an hour or two.

This is what I’m wearing after our show, see? ’

She shows me a gown hanging on the back of a door – a sweeping scarlet affair, with a ruffle running bias-cut down the skirt and a corsage of silk flowers on the shoulder.

‘Hopelessly out of date, of course,’ Christina says, ‘I should think it’s ten years old at least, but it will do the job, do you see?’

‘I do see,’ I say, admiring the gown. ‘It’s absolutely lovely, but I don’t have any beautiful gowns tucked away in my pocket.’

‘And I don’t have any that will fit you,’ Christina says, woeful. ‘This is dreadful. What shall we do, Alex?’

‘Call the whole thing off,’ Alex says as he presses his shirt. ‘I cannot pretend to live in Daniel Beauchamp’s arms if it must be done vicariously through a frumpy spinster.’

‘Hey.’ I clip him lightly round the head. ‘I do have feelings, you know?’

‘Sorry, darling.’ He flashes me a smile, and I forgive him immediately. ‘You know, she looks very sweet in that dress, really. Perhaps it will do. She could probably wear sackcloth; he is smitten, after all . . .’

‘It will not do,’ Christina insists. ‘Never mind Danny – I have standards. Not to pile on the pressure, but we all need this particular romance to come to . . . er . . . fruition tonight, darling. I won’t say that morale is resting on it, but . . .’

‘A rather sizeable sweepstake is,’ Alex tells me. ‘I’ve got you and Danny sneaking off to bed at 10.43 p.m., if you don’t mind keeping an eye on the clock.’

‘This is awful – I’m not going,’ I say. ‘I’m not going to have my . . . whatever this is, being turned into a betting book.’

There is another knock at the door.

‘I’ll show them in on my way out,’ I tell them, my cheeks blazing. Of course I have to go to the dance. There is more at stake than what I’m wearing, and if Danny and I die in the next few days . . . but they don’t know that.

‘Stella!’ I blink, opening the door to my grandmother. ‘I thought you were staying with Sal?’

‘I was – I am – but I had a thought,’ Stella says, rather shy. She is carrying a parcel wrapped in brown paper. ‘So, I went home to collect this for you. Your dowdy dress simply will not do for your special night with Flight Lieutenant Beauchamp.’

‘That’s what I said,’ Christina says, coming to the door.

My mouth drops open, then I close it again, speechless.

Stella presses the parcel into my arms. ‘We have the same sort of figure, or we used to, before I got so thin,’ Stella tells me.

‘This dress – I wore it on the night that my husband and I became engaged. I have only worn it once, and here.’ She hands me a pair of darkest green patent-leather court shoes with a diamanté buckle.

‘I have long feet. I think you do, too.’

‘Stella, I don’t know what to say,’ I say, accepting the parcel and shoes.

‘You have been a good person to me – a help,’ Stella says, ‘and I will not be able to pay you with money, so.’ She shrugs. ‘You will look pretty in it, I think.’

‘Well, come in while she tries it on,’ Christina says. ‘You have to see the product of your generosity. Take a seat here. Have a glass of Greek wine – we will be back in a moment.’

* * *

‘Well.’ Christina gasps as she unwraps the parcel, revealing a deep-green dress in exactly the same shade as the shoes. It’s made from slippery satin, with a deep neckline and a black tulle overskirt. ‘It almost looks as if it was made for you. Put it on.’

As it happens, I need a little help from Christina with the hooks and eyes, and then she examines my face, mercilessly plucking any stray brow and lip hairs she finds.

She fetches an almost empty palette of eye shadow, with a few corners of powdered pigment remaining, and dabs a little shimmering emerald-green on my lids, before passing me a stub of orange-red lipstick.

‘It’s all you have,’ I say, shaking my head. ‘I couldn’t possibly.’

‘Yes, but it’s a special night,’ she tells me. ‘A girl can’t make love to a boy properly without lipstick.’

‘Christina.’ I turn to her. ‘Are you crying?’

‘It’s just that you look so very lovely,’ Christina says, dabbing at her eyes with the corner of a hanky. ‘I’m absolutely furious about it.’

‘That’s not it, and you know it,’ I tell her fondly. ‘What’s really wrong?’

‘I just wish it could always be like this,’ she says.

‘Dances and gowns – and plenty of lipstick. I wish that a girl could happily fall in love and never have to worry about what will happen tomorrow, because there are no wars or dogfights or young men sent off to die every day. I wish you and Danny could have your night tonight and know you had your whole future ahead of you. I wish we all could.’

‘Don’t cry,’ I say, touching my palm to her cheek. ‘You’ll give yourself a red nose and puffy eyes. Stiff upper lip, remember?’

‘Quite right,’ she says, straightening her shoulders. ‘Though it is hard to bear knowing that I will be only the second most beautiful girl at the dance tonight.’

‘Now that,’ I tell her, ‘really is ridiculous. No one can ever outshine you, Miss Ratcliffe. You are a star.’

* * *

I seem to be holding my breath as I head downstairs towards where Stella is waiting. When she looks up at me a slow smile spreads over her face, and I release a long sigh of relief. Stella stands to greet me at the foot of the stairs.

‘You look . . .’ She falters.

‘Yes?’

‘You look like me,’ she says, with a little laugh of uncharacteristic delight.

‘Like I did two children and a thousand years ago. My dear girl, you could be my sister.’ She embraces me lightly, kissing me on either cheek.

‘This is fitting,’ she says approvingly, ‘for a dance with the flight lieutenant.’

‘It really is,’ Christina says, coming down the stairs behind me. ‘And now, you look far too pretty to carry anything. I’ll just have to get more lads in.’

‘I’ll do that,’ Alex offers. ‘And you do look ravishing, Maia. You truly do.’

‘Well.’ Stella nods. ‘I will go back to Sal. He is cooking for us. Have a wonderful evening.’ She thinks for a moment. ‘But don’t drink too much, and don’t get pregnant.’

‘Copy that,’ I say, saluting her as she leaves.

‘Well.’ Christina puts one arm around me and one around Alex. ‘The hour is upon us at last.’